


to the arms that are waiting only for you

by giuthehuman



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Episode Related, First Kiss, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maduceus, Ressurection fic, c02e98: dark waters, can't wait for this fic to be invalidated in less than 24h, i have no idea how to tag this, ish?, overuse of italics and em dashes, the boy is ANGRY you guys, the nein are there briefly it's mostly just fjord and ducey boy, yeah another one bitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23114131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giuthehuman/pseuds/giuthehuman
Summary: The last thing he hears before he awakens with a choked breath is Caduceus’ voice.You’re not done yet.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord, Fjord & The Mighty Nein
Comments: 14
Kudos: 236





	to the arms that are waiting only for you

**Author's Note:**

> hello guys!
> 
> this is my first work in the critical role fandom! yay! unfortunately it had to be under these circumstances but yeah it be like that sometimes
> 
> i thought the critical role tag needed one more rez fic so Here We Go. hope you like it! also, english isn't my first language so if you catch any silly mistakes just call me out in the comments idk i'll fix it.
> 
> thanks bubba for proofreading and encouraging me! luh ya girl
> 
> (title is from come away to the water by maroon 5)

The last thing he hears before he awakens with a choked breath is Caduceus’ voice.

_You’re not done yet._

He sounds angrier than Fjord has ever seen him — maybe not angrier, it’s not like him to be _angry._ It’s too close to _begging_ to be anger, either. His voice sounds almost wet, as if he’s been crying. Fjord has never seen him cry, either. 

He coughs and gasps, the searing hot pain in his chest softened ever so slightly by the warmth of the Wildmother’s healing magic. He opens his eyes, but his vision takes a moment to come back to him. It’s still blurry, but he can make out the outlines of Caduceus’ face looming over him. He feels something wet drip onto his chest and he doesn’t know if it’s the rain or if it’s somehow related to the hiccups and sobs coming from above him. The hands touching his chest tremble and shake before they clench, not really scratching him but strong enough for him to feel it.

He turns his face to the side and a familiar yellow orb stares at him. Well, now a half-orb, as a heavy-breathing Yasha stands still, staring at a point in space while holding the Magician’s Judge, which is now stuck into the deck floor. Jester stands behind her, completely quiet.

Hands sweep his wet hair out of his forehead and raise his head slightly before resting it on a pair of blue-clad thighs. He hears Beau crying. Caleb is also there, on his knees beside him, both of his rough, scarred hands holding his right one, matching scars on their palms pressed against each other. Nott- no, Veth rests her hand on Caleb’s shoulder, heaving as if she’d just sprinted there.

“‘Duceus?” he calls in a weak voice. “Wh-what…”

The sudden weight as Caduceus hugs him makes him hiss, but he takes it. The wet, pastel pink hair clings to his green skin and the force of Caduceus’ sobs shakes him as well. He weakly raises his left arm, his hand resting on the firbolg’s ribs. He feels Caleb release his other hand, so he brings it up too. Every single muscle on his body aches and his head pounds as if it has been slammed against something repeatedly, and yet he tightens his grip. Caduceus sniffles against his neck, hot breath against cold wet skin making him shiver.

They are talking around him but he doesn’t have the mind to try to make sense out of the words he hears. He’s too busy trying to recollect what had transpired before he woke up — he remembers teleporting to the crow’s nest, remembers getting up to fire an Eldritch Blast but being pummeled immediately and then losing consciousness. His next memory is waking up for a short moment on the deck of the Balleater, the deep scion standing atop him, falchion in hand. Then, pain, searing hot pain through his chest and, right after, nothing. Pitch black nothingness, followed by the Mother’s sweet voice. She’d told him to _listen_ and _consider_ ; no commanding tone, just softness and warmth. Then, he’d heard the Nein’s pleas: for him to stay, to _not leave us, not now, nor ever._ The last one to speak was Caduceus, and that’s when he woke up.

Had he died?

“-I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-” Fjord breaks through the stream of apologies pouring from Caduceus’ lips.

“Hey, sorry about what?”

His throat feels rough and dry, as if someone had rubbed sandpaper on his windpipes. Breathing still hurts, but it becomes a little more manageable when he feels Jester’s cold magic rushing through his veins, right into his heart, from a distance. He then realises that he’s been left alone with Caduceus. Not really alone, though, the Nein are still watching over them from a few feet away, but he’s glad to have been given some sort of privacy.

“It wasn’t- it isn’t- I should’ve-” Caduceus’ breath hitches as he heaves, the occasional sob ripping through his throat.

Fjord summons all of his strength to fully wrap his arms around Caduceus’ waist, pulling him closer. It hurts, _fuck,_ Caduceus surely is way heavier than he seems, but it’s the right thing to do. He can only imagine how the rest of the group feels, given that what had transpired was enough to leave Caduceus this shaken, but he’ll have enough time to think about it later. Right now, the only thought in his mind is the man in front — on top? — of him.

“‘Duceus, I’m fine, you see?” He unwraps one of his arms from around Caduceus, instead bringing his hand up to his face in order to pry it from the space between his neck and shoulder. Lavender eyes stare back at him, teary and red rimmed. He can’t help but feel guilty of bringing this upon his friends. His hubris almost tore this group — this _family_ apart. What was he thinking when he didn’t consider Uk’otoa’s threat before setting sail? He remembers the dream he had back in Kravaraad, when She told him She could never get rid of the darkness in his heart, only help him bear it. “If anything, I… I should be the one apologizing.”

“Shut up, Fjord.” He knows there is no real bite to Caduceus’ words, but the way he sniffles at the end of the sentence doesn’t escape him. A small smile spreads across his face, his growing tusks catching on his top lip. He finds he doesn’t mind it too much when he sees a similar smile mirrored on the other’s face.

Fjord’s heart kicks in his chest, pain flaring through his bruised sternum and ribs. His thumb caresses Caduceus’ face slowly and Caduceus raises a hand to his, pressing it even closer. The fur there is caked with blood, but he doesn’t mind it in the slightest.

“You should rest,” Caduceus croaks, removing Fjord’s hand from his face and, with a heavy sigh, getting up. As if on cue, Yasha and Jester approach them, helping Fjord up.

They carry him over to the Captain’s quarters, but he’s not sure he wants to stay there, not after the night’s events. He must’ve voiced those thoughts, because Yasha holds him a little tighter before saying:

“We won’t leave you alone.”

Jester’s thumb smoothes over the arm wrapped around her shoulders. She sniffles, but keeps looking forward as they bring him below deck.

“He used Blight, you know,” she says, her voice raising slightly in pitch before she sniffles once again. Fjord tries to reckon who she’s talking about. “Caduceus, I mean.”

“I don’t know wha-”

“It’s death magic,” she chimes in. “He hates using death magic.”

Oh, that Fjord _knows._

“How’s… how’s Orly?” he asks, afraid of the answer.

“Stabilized,” she answers. “Caduceus used Gentle Repose on both of you so we could bring you back with Revivify.”

Yeah, he’d died.

He nods, staying silent until they help him into bed. Yasha stands at the door of the Captain’s quarters, on guard for anything that might appear. Jester leaves with a hushed whisper of how she has to Revivify Orly now. Not much later, Caduceus comes in with a bowl of water in his hands, a rag draped over his shoulder. His hands are clean now, but his face is still streaked red. He sits beside him on the bed, wets the rag and starts cleaning the blood from his wound, occasionally dipping it again in the water.

Fjord hisses with the contact, biting his lower lip. The wound isn’t fully healed yet, but it looks much better already. He hears Caduceus mutter an incantation and the borders of the slit glow green, lichen filling the gap and closing it. When it falls off, there is only a lighter-coloured patch of skin there. His chest aches still and he knows it’ll take a while for him to fully recover, but he thanks Caduceus for helping.

He hears Caduceus grumble something that sounds an awful lot like _I should’ve been a better cleric._ It makes Fjord unreasonably angry, to see him doubting himself like this even after he brought Fjord from the _fucking dead._

“This is so much more than being a good cleric, ‘Duceus,” he murmurs. He rests his hand over Caduceus’, the one that’s still wiping his chest clean. “You’ve been so good to me. I’ve… I’ve never had someone care like this. Not even Vandren. I owe you so much-” he clasps Caduceus’ hands. “-I can’t even start thinking of a way to repay you.”

With a nervous laugh, Caduceus replies:

“Staying alive is a great start.”

Fjord snorts, shaking his head with a smile.

“No promises.”

The silence that follows is lighter, less awkward. There isn’t any expectation hanging in the air. Caduceus is still smiling softly, although the worry doesn’t vanish from his face. Fjord’s blood stains the rag and turns the water in the basin red. His heartbeat resonates inside his ribcage so loud and strong he’s sure Caduceus can feel it.

“Can you sit up?” The deep rumble of Caduceus’ voice is gentle in his ears. He looks… calmer, now. Worn out, a bit bruised and shaken, but calmer. 

He sneakily touches his fingertips to the marks on Caduceus’ skin, spending his Lay on Hands pool for the day. Caduceus raises an eyebrow at him, but makes no further comment.

“Yeah, I think so.” He hoists himself up on his elbows, then on his hands, and oh _fuck_ do his muscles ache. He hangs tight, though, managing to only grimace a little at it.

A big hand holds his face and moves his head side to side, up and down, as Caduceus inspects it. Fjord doesn’t miss the way the pads of his fingers search for his pulse. If Caduceus notices the way his heart speeds up, he doesn’t mention it.

“You’re sleeping with me tonight,” Caduceus says, breaking the silence.

Fjord splutters. His face heats up and, when he looks up at Caduceus, he’s kind of glad to see a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks, eyes slightly widened.

“I mean,” Caduceus continues. “We won’t let you sleep on your own. Caleb’s going to set the dome and we’ll take watches while you rest.”

“‘Duce-”

“You’ve got to rest, Fjord.” His tone is incisive, more so than Fjord is used to hear from him, but he understands. “You were dead not even an hour ago.”

“I _know,_ Caduceus,” Fjord affirms, bringing both hands up to his face. “But you’ve got to rest too.”

He sees how strung up Caduceus is, still. The way he tenses whenever the wooden floor of the ship creaks outside of the Captain’s quarters. How his ears shift in every direction, paying attention to any sign of the sea spawn.

“Look at me, ‘Duceus.” Caduceus’ eyes meet his. They’re not as red and teary as before, which makes this much easier. “Everyone’s worried, this was… quite the scare.” He huffs at his understatement. “You don’t have to shoulder this on your own. You’ve done so much, since day one, and I know this even though I wasn’t there to see it. You brought my friends- _our_ friends to me. To Jester. To Yasha. You saved us when you barely even knew us.”

Caduceus tries to steer his gaze away, but Fjord holds his face firmly.

“You’re too selfless, ‘Duceus,” he continues.

“This isn’t me being selfless,” Caduceus murmurs. “This is me being _selfish._ ”

Fjord says the smartest thing he can think of:

“Huh?”

A chuckle escapes from Caduceus’ lips, the corners turning up ever so slightly.

“I couldn’t stand the thought that it was the time the Raven Queen took you from us — from _me._ I know to expect and not fear death and I know I’ll most likely outlive all of you but… it wasn’t fear. It was anger. I was so mad that… that _thing,_ that terrible creature thought it was its right to end something so _holy_ as the life the Wildmother gave you-” he takes a deep breath before resuming his speech. “-if… if it had been able to drag you into the ocean — and it tried to, but Caleb stopped him — I-I don’t like water that much to begin with but I would’ve jumped after you.”

Silence stretches between them for what feels like an hour but really could only be a few seconds. Fjord’s mouth is agape, grip on Caduceus’ face slack. His hands slide down to the firbolg’s neck, fingers tangling into his pastel pink hair. It shouldn’t feel so soft, not still drying right after a battle like that. He knows his face is flushed dark, muddy green but he finds he doesn’t mind it when Caduceus’ own cheeks are unusually rosy.

“Well,” he sighs. “Then I’m glad for your selfishness.”

Caduceus raises an eyebrow.

“Y’know,” Fjord says as he shuffles closer. “I would’ve done the same if it were you.”

He may not be the most perceptive person in Exandria, but there’s no way he would miss the way Caduceus’ eyes drop to his lips for a fraction of a second. It emboldens him, and, before he can think himself out of it, he leans over and kisses Caduceus. His lips are warm and soft and inviting, but Fjord waits for a response — anything, really. When a hum resonates deep in Caduceus’ chest, echoing in his own from the proximity, big hands holding him by the waist, is when he deepens it.

It takes some trial and error; he’s not used to his own tusks and Caduceus’ lip shape is a bit unusual, but they make it work. If he hears what sounds way too close to Jester’s voice squealing right outside the room, he pretends not to.


End file.
